


For Him

by QueenieBlood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Healing, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love, Malfoy Manor (Harry Potter), Moving On, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieBlood/pseuds/QueenieBlood
Summary: "All I want is a normal life, is that too much to ask for?"Five years is a long time to be heartbroken. Within those five years Hermione becomes transfixed in a mundane world all for the sake of healing her broken heart. What happens when she crosses paths with Draco Malfoy, who's in desperate need of help?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	1. One- The ecounter

" _You need to help me Granger.”_

For Hermione, the past few months had been a long, never ending, mundane train, and last week was no exception.

She was so dedicated to her job at the Department Of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes that she barely had any time to spend on herself or her social life, which had deteriorated over time since her friends were too busy living their lives while she slaved away, her work turning her more and more into a hermit.

Between the gruelling workdays there were no events or stories that had piqued her interest, except the one article in the Prophet about Ginny being pregnant with yet another Potter heir. She balled the newspaper up before tossing it into the rubbish bin. For the rest of the day she had been in a sour mood, snapping at anyone who had spoken to her.

She was given weekends off to recuperate from the nastily exhausting workdays, and often on those days she would be curled up with a good book and a sweet, warm cup of cocoa or a cooling glass of lemonade, depending on what the weather permitted. On Sunday evening she had left her house to go on a grocery run, her unsuspecting mind unaware of what was to transpire.

Her grocery bags lay forgotten on the tarred ground of the alleyway, several of her purchased items scattered across the narrow, long expanse of space.

Her hands had been pinned down to her sides as she was held against the grimly walls of a dilapidated building. Previously she had been thrashing around in an attempt to free herself from the clasps of the stranger that had trapped her, but now she was immobilized, partly by the stranger who was restraining her, and partly by her utter shock.

Her dark pupils dilated as her eyes locked with a familiar pair of wintry eyes, her mouth agape. His musk corrupted her nose, sending a tingle through her nerves.

“Malfoy.” His name left her mouth in a harsh tone. After the war, The Golden Trio along with many other students had returned to complete their seventh year. Many things were amiss, like for instance, the animosity between the Hogwarts houses and the connection between the three members of said trio. Hermione could sense that their friendship was starting to grow more strained, like a string holding a one ton weight. Eventually the string had severed and the weight of all their memories, adventures as a trio went plummeting into an abyss where it couldn’t be saved. Along with her friendship with the two males went her love life.

Amidst the darkness of the war they had somehow found enough light to produce a seedling of their love. Ron abandoning the two of them had given that seedling enough room to grow into a big, strong tree; a representation of love during that uncertain time.

During those times, Harry had loved her like any day could've been their last, because in actual fact, when you’re loving someone like him, any day could’ve been their last.

But their love seemed to have been short lived. As they returned to Hogwarts for their final year, they began to drift apart, the tree that had grown from their love beginning to wither from neglect.

Her heart swelled and ached with sadness, prompting the wells that were her eyes to release their ever flowing stream of tears.

She had given it a mere three months before he left her for someone better, someone worthier, but in actual fact a month was really enough for his heart to go astray and be found by non other than Ginny Weasley, the woman who lusted over his fame more than she actually loved him.

Now Hermione was left picking up the pieces of her broken heart while he was creating a happy family with Ginny, the family he always assured Hermione that they'd have.

Hermione pushed the memories back to the vault in her mind, condemning her tears back to their ducts. “Granger.” His drawl was the same as always, except with a little adjustment in his voice. It had deepened into a low baritone that shook her core like loud heavy metal music.

“Malfoy this is not the appropriate way to woo a lady. If you aren’t careful you'll find yourself in the can.” Hermione joked.

“Very funny Granger. Why would I want to woo you? What, pray tell, would make me overlook the fine pureblood women of the wizarding world and come after you?” Draco growled, the venom dripping from his voice.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the platinum blonde. “Ah, it always comes down to my blood doesn’t it? I’m even shocked that you’re still holding on to me. The Malfoy I know so well would've already been Scourgifying his hands raw because I’m just so fucking dirty!”

Malfoy’s lips curled into an amused smirk that flared her annoyance. “Listen you blonde ferret if you don’t let me go by Merlin I swear I will do you dirty!” She hissed out. “Okay, Okay, just chill.” He said, his hands disconnecting from her arms. He backed away, his hands held up defensively.

“Now tell me why in the bloody hell you dragged me up to this filthy rat infested alley or I swear to God that this will be your final place of rest.”

“Cool it with the threats Granger. I come in peace.” He said, lowering his hands.

Peace? The setting of the meeting didn’t suggest anything peaceful, if you asked her.

Hermione raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow in inquiry.

"You need to help me Granger.” Draco said. Hermione managed to catch a hint if desperation in his voice. “With?”

“I can’t tell you here. Just come to the Manor. We'll talk about it there."

Hermione abhorred the idea of visiting Draco's childhood home, as it was the same place his crackpot aunt had tortured her. Even just the thought or mention of Bellatrix and the harrowing torture she had subjected Hermione to caused a tingle of pain to run through her Mudblood scar.

Sensing her hesitation, Draco sighed. “I know you're hesitant about coming to the Manor, especially since that's the place my aunt tortured you. I apologise on behalf of my family and their bigot beliefs, and I also apologise for my earlier comment. You are in fact a decent and very beautiful witch and any man lucky enough to woo you should praise every deity alive.”

Wait what?! Hermione's jaw fell to the ground. Draco Malfoy, the same cocky, entitled, bigot Draco Malfoy had not only apologised for his family's disgusting opinions but also complemented her! Was the world ending?

“I..I-I uhm...” Hermione was flabbergasted. Her usually verbose mouth had been reduced to a succinct, dried up well.

“A simple thank you would suffice.” Draco said, amused.

“Right. Thanks.” Hermione said, flustered.

“Look, how bout I make the visit to my childhood home more comfortable for you? We can have dinner before we chat?” Once again, Hermione was inquisitive. “Like a date?"

Draco smirked. “Let’s call it a dinner between acquaintances.”

Hermione gave a chuckle. “And what will I gain from helping you Malfoy?”

“You'll be compensated handsomely.” He promised.

Hermione scoffed at his offer. “And what if I told you I don’t need compensation and that I’m doing well on my own?”

Draco chuckled, the slow, deep sound sending chills down her spine. His silvery eyes morphed into a steely grey that reminded Hermione of the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts. “And what if I told you that you owe me this. After all, I did save you from mortal peril. If it wasn’t for me your corpse would be rotting in some valley, and with you dead Potter would have lost to the Dark Lord because we all know that he's useless without you.”

Hermione gritted her teeth in ire, before she let her mouth form an unamused smirk. “Just when I though you had changed.”

Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets, a triumphant look drawn on his face. “I’m just saying. You owe me this favour, and I know you won’t say no because the righteous organ beating in your chest would never let you turn down a person in need. Isn’t that why you were sorted into Gryffindor?”

“The dinner's this Saturday. You have the entire week to sort yourself out. And please for the love of Merlin Granger, try to look a little decent.” And with a loud crack, Draco was out of her sight, his presence still lingering in her mind.

“Bastard.” She hissed under her breath as she began to pick up her scattered items.

So that was how Hermione's mundane week had ended. She had been offered an opportunity that might or might not change her life, by non other than Draco Malfoy.

Dressed in her comfy pyjamas, Hermione slipped into her warm bed, her body begging for the sweet release of sleep. Her eyes closed, signalling the end of her crazy Sunday.

But it seems like her Sunday wasn’t quite over.

_"HERMIONE!”_


	2. Two- Memories

_“HERMIONE!”_

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, all drowsiness that had previously resided in her body fleeing like a stray cat shooed away by a loud sound.

Silence followed after the yell, and Hermione hoped with both fingers crossed that it was her sleep deprived brain playing games with her. When the silence carried on, Hermione proceeded to close her eyes, hoping that she could scrape up the remaining remnants of exhaustion in her body and hopefully mould it into at least five hours of shut eye.

_“HERMIONE!”_ This time the call was accompanied by loud, booming knocks. Hermione sat up, alarmed by the loud noise. She snatched her wand from her bedside table, paranoia tangling her thoughts, into one recurring thought.

Could it be a thief, or an armed robber?

_What kind of robber knocks on the door? And if it is a robber, why do they know my name?_ Hermione's mind countered, trying and failing miserably to assure herself that she was in no real danger, but deep within the confides of her heart she knew who that voice belonged to. She just refused to believe that he had come back for her.

With stealthy steps, she walked out of her bedroom and to the living room, her wand held in front of her and a hex sitting on the tip of her tongue.

Her heart thumped in her chest wildly, as she desperately hoped that it wasn’t who she thought it was, but from the way her palms quickly formed perspiration and her legs became flaccid, she was pretty sure it was him banging on her door in the dead of the night.

_But why? After all this time, why now, when I feel like my life is under control?_

Taking a deep breath to compose her raging nerves, she waved her wand along with the incantation.

“ _Alohomora_.” With a click the door flew open.

The first thing that hit her was the distinct smell of firewhiskey that was being emitted. She didn’t drink firewhiskey, as it was too strong for her, but she knew the smell from the many parties Gryffindor house threw. In fact, it was one of the smells she associated with her beloved house's common room.

The second thing to hit her was a quite large, heavy body, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her lips as she was backed into the wall.

The third and final thing to hit her was realisation when she got a good glance at the intruder’s face. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart stilled.

“H-Harry.” She had hoped, to no avail, that it wasn't Harry _Fucking_ Potter at her door at twelve midnight, but sometimes hope wasn’t enough was it?

Cursing profusely while clutching at his forehead, was none other than Harry Potter, the man notorious for being the one to break Hermione's heart.

Like a waterfall, the memories washed over her.

Neither of the two said a single word, both lost for words as they stared at the other, both reminiscing about the good and remembering the bad.

“Blimey Hermione.” Harry was the one who finally shattered the stillness. His words carried the burning smell of firewhiskey into her nostrils. “You look-" He hiccuped. “You look bloody...b-bloody fantastic... You l-look...” A chuckle broke through his almost incoherent slur of words as the alcohol toyed with his brain.

Hermione bit her lip, her heart putting up iron walls as a defence against any of his words.

She let her eyes linger over her former lover, drinking in his rugged and dishevelled look. His usually messy raven curls were even messier than usual. It triggered the memory of the countless times she had ran her fingers through the silky black locks as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. Then her eyes fell to his own green, bespectacled ones, the ones that once held love as they gazed at her.

He had the most _beautiful_ pair of eyes.

Hermione felt her iron walls dent.

The rest of his body followed in her scrutiny, her eyes scanning over his well sculpted form. She could almost see his muscular torso underneath his untucked and dishevelled shirt.

She noticed a crack running across one of his lenses, and resisted the urge to reach over and snatch the glasses off his face so she could mend them like she did when they had first met.

“What do you want Harry?” Hermione barked harshly.

“You.” He said, before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Her iron walls had been reduced to frail sheets of tinfoil that fluttered precariously around her heart.

“Harry James Potter, if you know what’s good for you, you will leave my house.” She threatened, her voice fluttering just as the thin sheets of foil were.

“No no I-I'm serious Mione. I _hic_ want y-you! I’ve always _hic_ wanted you!’ A shaky breath left her mouth at his words. Her tinfoil guards collapsed, leaving her heart vulnerable to the blow of his words.

A small irrational part of her mind wanted her to drop her insecurities and jump into the Boy Who Lived’s arms. That same part of her mind wanted her to reciprocate his words, to show him that he belonged with her and not with the mother of his kids and the woman he married.

But the logical part of her mind could not stress how wrong it was for Harry to come to her house intoxicated, and how wrong it was for him to be professing his love for her when he had a pregnant wife and a son waiting for him at home. This part of her mind still held the bitterness and anger that she felt when Harry had left her for Ginny, and wanted nothing more than to watch Harry go through the same heartache he had put her through all those years ago.

“Who the fuck do you think you are and why do you think it’s okay to come and say all these things to me after you dropped me like a hot potato and ran into the arms of Ginny?! Harry, you may not know this because you were too busy creating a happily ever after with Ginny, but while you galloped away onto the sunset on your white steed with Ginny, I was left trying to put together the small fragments of my shattered heart! I was in a really dark place for a really long time, and that was because of you! And now when I really feel like I finally have a firm grasp on my life-on my love life, in fact- you turn up out of the blue, professing your love for me!” Harry remained silent all through her rant, his eyes planted on his feet like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Her heart was bruised, badly.

Her eyes glistened with tears she just didn’t want to unleash, especially in front of the man that had broke her.

“ _I had loved you Harry!_ I had loved you with everything in me, but that just wasn’t enough for the Golden Boy now was it?” Each word dripped with enough poison to wipe out the lives of every living being in Great Britain.

“Harry,” He voice cracked like the crack on Harry's lens. “I-I may be many things, but I’m not a fucking tart, so what the fuck makes you think I want to be your treacle tart?"

As the spell of silence had been lifted from Harry, he began to speak, only to be quickly shut down by Hermione.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“ _Hermione_ -"

“GET OUT!”

“I-I love you Hermes.”

Her eyelids fell shut, just as the crack of apparition sounded in the room, the sound reverberating off the walls and into her ear.

Hermes. Ron called her Mione. Harry called her Hermes.

_“You're special to me Hermes.”_ _“No one will replace you in my heart Hermes. Your face is etched onto it.”_ _“I love you Hermes."_

“I’m sorry Hermes.”

Her legs buckled underneath her own weight, causing her to fall on her knees. She tried to push down the ball of tears that sat in her throat, but it relented, eventually winning against her emotional strength.

Her body convulsed with silent sobs, tears rolling down her flushed face.

Once again Harry had broke her.

* * *

That fairly extraordinary Sunday concluded with Hermione crying herself to sleep as the regret and grief solidified her heart, the encounter with her lost lover replaying on loop in her mind.

After that, the days seemed to roll by as she drowned in a pool of hatred and heartbreak.

She had taken sick leave from work for the week, but the guilt of skiving off work for something as trivial as heartbreak coupled with the emotional pain left her feeling even more dismal.

_Actually_ , she was right to take sick leave, she was sick!

The diagnosis being that she was suffering from a severe case of Harry Potter.

And at this point Hermione was certain it was fatal.

It was only on Thursday that Hermione had revived from her blues.

_“By Merlin this is ridiculous! Hermione he's moved on, and you should do the same!”_

The less feint hearted part of her mind scolded.

_**“Yeah, he moved on with a piece of my heart...”** _

The broken hearted, desolate part of her mind sighed.

_“You’ve endured worse! What’s a little heartbreak to THE Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio?”_ It countered.

_**“It isn’t just heartbreak. He was my everything, hell my world! I risked my life multiple times for him!”** _

Hermione quickly shut down the quarrel in her head before it spiralled into something worse and left her restrained in a straight jacket at St Mungos Psych Ward.

A distressed sigh slithered past her lips. But the voice in her head had a point. It wouldn’t do well to mope around when she could continue with her life. There are plenty of fish in the sea right?

There’s still that stupid meet up with Malfoy. An involuntary growl left her lips. The blasted thing had slipped her mind for most of the week.

What was that stupid blonde ferret playing at anyway? Just because he had saved her life once he thought that she suddenly owed him an immense amount of debt. Would it kill him to do something for somebody without expecting to be compensated in some way for it?

Friday rolled past in an uneventful blur, landing her on _D-day_. She moped around for most of the day, but when six rolled by she attempt to hold herself together, determined not to break down in front of the ferret. The last she wanted to do was show him that she was weak.

“Hermione, you're strong, you've got this.” She chanted as she scrutinised herself in her full length mirror. The vault in her heart locked in her painful memories, incarcerating them in the prison of her heart. For the night she was going to be strong, outspoken, fearless Hermione, not mopey, depressed Granger.

Hermione believed by Malfoy standards, she looked _decent_. She was adorned in a maroon body con dress that hugged her petite figure, emphasising the subtle curves of her body Her soft hazel curls were pulled up in a bun, a few strands falling stray over her face which had a light coat of makeup. On her feet she wore red stilettos and since it was quite a chilly night, she pulled on a burgundy, cashmere sweater.

Grabbing her purse, she took one deep breath to fully compose herself before she vanished with the crack of apparition.

She appeared in front of the familiar heavy wrought iron gates of the ominous palace that was Malfoy Manor. Her breath thinned as she remembered the atrocities that took place in that home. She felt her scar tingle, Bellatrix's harsh crackle playing distantly in her head.

To her the Malfoy Manor was like a palace of darkness; if it’s walls could talk it would speak of the horrors and the atrocious tortures many were subjected to at the hands of Voldemort and his minions.

_Suck it up Hermione. Times have changed. Voldemort is dead, in fact he was killed by the same man you detest with all your heart._

A sudden crack sent her jumping in fear.

“Did I startle you Granger?” She was hit with a familiar musky scent before the deep baritone of his drawl sounded beside her. Turning she came face to face with non other than Draco Malfoy, who she noted had not overdressed for the occasion. He wore a white dress shirt that hugged his upper body tightly, emphasising his toned and well built physique and a pair of grey slacks that clashed with the quicksilver colour of his eyes. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows and two top buttons had been left unbuttoned, the creamy pale skin of his collarbone visible to her.

Just as Hermione had been scrutinizing Draco's appearance, Draco's eyes scanned over Hermione, drinking in her look. “I see you took ‘decent’ to a whole new level.” He commented, his gaze causing goosebumps to grow atop her skin.

“Can we just get whatever this is over and done with?” Hermione sighed, bemused and already weary about his intentions.

“Okay.” He held out his hand for Hermione to take, the breeze whipping at his platinum locks. “Take my hand so we can apparate into the manor.”

Hermione took his hand quite gingerly, an unpleasant shock running through her body at the contact. She was holding the hand of her former enemy/ school bully, and as shocking as it was to admit he had pleasantly textured hands. To her it felt as if she had been holding a baby's hand instead of the grey eyed, blonde haired ferret’s.

Draco apparated them into one of the manor’s dining rooms that had already been set up to accommodate the two of them for dinner.

Upon arrival she snatched her hand away from his, disgusted at herself for missing the brief warmth his hand provided.

“Aw now Granger, you can’t be treating me like that now. I mean you'll be closer to me than you think.” Draco said, visibly amused.

Hermione scoffed, before walking over to one of the seats. “Can we just talk about whatever trap you’re luring me into? Because I’ve had the most exhausting week and Saturday is sort of my rest d-" She was cut off from her ramblings by Draco. A growl of frustration slipped past her lips.

“Of course, Of course. But first, dinner. We can't talk of business on an empty stomach now!” His chuckle aroused Hermione's deep desire to punch him in the mouth. Memories of third year arose, the wistful thought of putting bratty third year Draco in his place causing her bad mood to almost disappear completely.

With a snap and a crack, a house elf appeared along with two plates of food, two empty flute glasses and a bottle of champagne that levitated beside her. “Master Malfoy, Atty is bring the food.” The elf, Atty, said in her severely high voice. Atty struggled to bow in the flowing, slightly oversized royal blue dress she wore, a paper crown perched precariously atop her hairless head. “Thank you Atty. And for Merlin's sake stop bowing.” Draco chastised.

“Atty's apologies Master Malfoy, Atty keeps forgetting!” She squeaked bashfully. She set the food in the table before disappearing with another crack.

All through the interaction Hermione hadn’t said a word, as her mouth had been stunned into a O of shock.

Draco found great amusement at her shock.

“Shocked Granger?”

“I-I... Is that your house elf Malfoy?” Hermione said, her cool guise fitting back into place almost immediately.

“Yes Granger. Her name's Atty and believe it or not, she's the only one I have here.” He confessed.

“And what of the rest?” Hermione inquired.

“They went to Hogwarts. Atty is the only one I kept because she brightens up the manor and well because Scorp likes her.” Hermione found that Draco had already pulled back her seat while they were talking. Her lips curved upwards forming her first genuine smile since the week began.

“Wow. You keep surprising me tonight.” Hermione said, genuinely impressed by his kind gesture. “Oh why thank you. From your that’s the highest form of praise I could receive.” He bantered, taking a seat across from her.

Hermione threw a glance at the plate that sat in front of her, her eyes scrutinizing its contents. A fairly sized square of casserole sat on the ornate China, accompanying it a helping of a bed of roasted vegetables. The aroma wafted into her nose, temporarily crippling her senses. Picking up her utensils, she began to dig into the food.

“So Malfoy, are you going to tell me about this thing you want me to do for you or are we going to be playing guessing games the entire night?” Hermione inquired, as she took a bite of her food, flavour bursting in her mouth as she chewed. Mm. It was definitely better than anything she could cook!

“Be patient Granger, soon you'll know. Wine?”

“I’ve had too much wine this week but sure.” She said. With a lazy flick of his wrist the bottle levitated, emptying its crimson contents into her glass. Hermione peered over at Draco's empty glass, her previously abandoned scepticism at the blonde's hospitality latching back onto her. “You’re not drinking?”

Draco shook his head. “I bought this bottle just for you Granger.” Her eyes locked with Draco's, her hazel irises clashing with his stormy grey. The colour of his eyes had always intrigued her. There was something cryptic about them, something that suggested that there was more to the Pureblood wizard who had bullied her for most of the time they spent at Hogwarts.

Her eyes shifted from his, her face heating up upon realisation that she had been staring at the Malfoy heir for quite a while.

“Malfoy just tell me what it is you want from me.” Hermione said, breaking the silence that suddenly befell the pair.

“Will you just wait Granger? The night’s still young, we can discuss that matter anytime after dinner. That is unless you have a curfew Granger?” He asked, his pale eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as his words ignited her flames of rage.

“I’m not a fucking teenager Malfoy.” She hissed, her eyes narrowed in rage.

“I’m not saying you’re a child Granger. But with that foul mouth you might as well be.” He retorted coolly, bringing another forkful of food into his mouth.

That’s it! She abruptly got to her feet, causing the table to rattle slightly. “I should've never come here!” She growled in frustration. She was slightly disappointed that they couldn’t keep that sliver of civility they had held briefly.

His nonchalant demeanour coupled with his quick witty retorts were enough to make her boil with rage like a kettle. If it wasn’t for the fact that she currently wasn't in the right frame of mind due to Harry's surprise visit, she would've already annihilated him with her words.

“Did anyone tell you that you're hot when you're angry Granger?”

Hermione’s mouth hung open in stunned silence as she stared at Malfoy like he had suddenly grown an extra head. Her mouth closed and opened like a goldfish, the words caught in her throat.

“O-Oh sod off Malfoy!” She said once she fell out of her stupor.

It was apparent that Draco Malfoy was the victor of their verbal war, and Hermione was the sore, sore, loser.

“Daddy?”

The smirk fell completely off his face as he quickly turned towards the direction of the voice. Hermione turned her attention to the door, her eyes meeting with her final shock of the evening.

A little boy, who looked no older than five, stood by the doorway of the dining room, his big silver eyes trying to register the scene before him. His platinum blonde hair was a dishevelled mess atop of his head and his green silk pyjamas hung loosely off his body. He clung onto a dusty, thick tome as his eyes scanned over the room before they landed on Hermione.

He tilted his head to the side inquisitively as his gaze pierced through Hermione. “Daddy,” The little boy squeaked as he turned towards Draco who was on his feet and approaching him. “Is she my new tutor?”

Hermione’s head spun as the little boy’s words replaying in her mind like a broken record.

Draco had a son?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to For Him!
> 
> This fic had been originally posted on Ff.net and has multiple chapters on this site. I will be transferring it onto AO3 for more people to read. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic. It's going to be one bumpy ride with feels, feels and more feels! Hope you have a box of tissues next to you! ;-)


	3. Three- A New Job

The door to Draco Malfoy's study clicked shut as both Hermione and Draco entered the room which, to his relief, was a good distance away from his son's prying ears.

A huff freed itself from between Draco's lips as he leaned against the door, his body languid with relief. “I put him to sleep.” He said, before suddenly remembering who he was entertaining for the night. He cleared his throat, before regaining his solid demeanour, his stony guise falling back into place.

“Malfoy, thank you for your _hospitality_ , but some of us have personal lives we have to go back to, so if you’re done wasting my very _valuable_ time, please, direct me to the exit.” Hermione said pointedly.

A bark of amusement left Draco's throat, the resonance of his laughter increasing her ire. “Oh Granger but don’t you want to know what I have in store for you?” He asked, a wolfish grin adorned on his pale, aristocratic face.

Hermione sighed exhaustedly. “Stop wasting my time Malfoy. I came here just because your snooty, ungrateful arse needed help. But with that attitude it seems like life is pretty _hunky dory_ for you! I mean what could be going so wrong in Mr Perfection’s life that he needs the help of a lowly muggleborn like me?” She ranted. With the level of anger she was at Hermione was pretty sure she could boil a cup of tea in her own body. In fact, the previous statement was probably an understatement. She was ready to disembowel Draco.

“Okay, rela-"

“If you tell me to relax one more time I swear to Merlin that I’ll rip pull those pretty blonde locks off your head.” Hermione hissed, her wand out and pointed at Malfoy in a split second, her eyes burning with unquenchable fury.

“Hm. Feisty.” He chuckled. “Fine then. I’ll tell you why I’ve got you held up in my study, when you obviously have better things to do. Just put down your wand. I don’t want anything to happen to my pretty face.”

Reluctantly, Hermione lowered her arm, her attention raised to whatever Draco was about to say.

“So that little boy that you just saw in the kitchen? That’s my son, Scorpius.”

“Yes I think I've already got that part down.” Hermione said sarcastically.

“Well since you have already gotten that part down then you won’t have trouble with the next.” He bit. “Scorpius is a Malfoy, and Malfoy's deserve the best. He deserves the best in education, the best-"

_“Just cut to the chase!”_ Hermione cried, cutting him off. Draco glared at her, irked by her interrupting his speech about how Malfoy's were akin to God's. “Granger, my son needs a tutor.”

Silence reigned for a while in the room as Draco's words strutted across Hermione’s mind, her brain processing each syllable.

“I-I... what?” Once again for the evening Draco had stunned her into a state of being succinct, which was abnormal for the Brightest Witch Of Her Age, who was a long term sufferer of verbal diarrhoea (Well according to Ron) .

“Yes Granger. You.” Draco sighed. “I need you to tutor my son.”

“But... But... what makes you think I’m eligible for the job?” Hermione inquired.

“Look Granger, what I’m about to tell you might offend you or probably cause you to jump me. I asked the ministry for your records.”

“You WHAT?” She yelled indignantly, the sound booming throughout the room. Draco winced. “Yes I did, and I saw that you scored remarkably. You got O’s in literally every subject. And in your muggle reports-"

_“You looked at those too?!”_

“- You also did remarkably. Granger your mental prowess is impressive. You could’ve been a certified child genius.” He said.

Hermione huffed in aggravation, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Look Malfoy I’d love to help you but I just don’t have the time to tutor Scorpius. My schedule is packed.”

Draco bit his lip he the gears in his head began to turn. Once again Hermione's eyes searched his face for emotion, and upon finding nothing, she bought her gaze to her hands, flustered at herself for considering the blonde’s thinking face handsome. “I know a way you can free your schedule Granger.” He said suddenly. Hermione raised a brow in inquiry.

“Quit your job.”

“Quit my...” She trailed off, her head tilted to the side, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “Are you mad?” She was practically married to that job. Sure it wasn’t the greatest job in the world but it was what put a roof over her head and put clothes on her back. “I’m leaving.” She said, as she began to walk to the door. Maybe if she prayed hard enough to any deity available she would find that this entire situation was a delusion organised by her fatigued brain.

“I’ll pay you a hundred thousand galleons.” Draco said abruptly. Hermione stopped in her tracks; did he just say a hundred thousand galleons?! He smirked at her reaction. No one could say no to that offer. “Come on Granger, that’s even more than what Potter Makes. Or do you prefer to be paid in muggle currency? Every month I’ll pay you five hundred thousand pounds!”

Her hand rested on the cold brass of the doorknob as she mentally weighed her options. Working a ruthlessly tiring soul crushing job at the ministry, versus working for the man that bullied her incessantly as a child.

Maybe earning a monthly salary that surpassed Harry's would get rid a little bit of the bitterness?

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the doorknob tightly, a sudden feeling of sadness adorning her.

She would ponder on it over a cup of tea and her battered copy of _Hogwarts: A History._

* * *

_00:26_ , the luminescent numbers of the digital watch strapped tightly on his wrist read. The cool night air nipped at his skin, causing goose bumps to erupt all over his body. “ _Fuck_.” He slurred.

Once again the night had been wasted on a binge drinking spree.

There was no means of stopping his new found addiction, as it was the salve that soothed the pounding ache in his heart.

The alcohol had a devastating rule over his body, enslaving his soul and crippling his mind, all while keeping him under the pretence that it would make him forget.

While it did make him forget, the amnesia only lasted momentarily, and when it wore off all the previously forgotten memories hit him at full speed.

Slowly he turned the knob and pushed the door open, the creak of the aged door announcing his arrival. He shuffled into the dark living sluggishly, before throwing his languid body on the sofa. A fatigued sigh left his lips, as tiredness dominated in his body. Although the couch was quite uncomfortably to sleep on, Harry was compelled to release his inhibitions and just fall asleep on it.

“Harry?” The dark living room became illuminated, causing Harry to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light. “Bloody tell Ginny, turn off the lights.”

Standing by the threshold was Ginny, who had her hands on her hips in a reproachful stance. She was dressed in a cotton night dress, her auburn hair up in a bun. Her lips were pulled into a tight line on her face. “Where were you?” She asked, her voice shaking subtly.

“Does that matter Ginny?” Harry questioned.

“Yes Harry it does! You're coming home late and completely wasted, and it's worrying!” She cried, a ball of angst forming in her throat.

Within the confides of her heart Ginny knew what was the cause of him being so aloof towards her. She knew where his new found addiction stemmed from.

As much as she wanted to it to be a figment of her paranoia, she knew that Harry still loved her, and that was irrevocable.

“I’m so sick of this! I’m sick of your complaining and whining!” Harry yelled, picking himself off the sofa. He staggered, struggling to stand straight as his body was still plagued by intoxication. “So what if I come home drunk? I’m jus’ having a little fun thas’ all!”

“Not so loud Harry!” Ginny hissed. “You’ll wake James up!”

“You’re bein’ stupid, he can’t hear us!”

“You’re being insensitive Harry.” She reduced her voice to a barely audible whisper, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. She drew in a breath as she fought down the ball of angst that kept fighting it’s way up her throat. “Harry is... is this about the her?”

Silence reigned momentarily in the room, eventually being broken by a dry sob that broke past Ginny's lips. “Please don’t lie.”

He clenched his jaw tightly, his emerald eyes darkening considerably. The memories were still freshly painted onto his brain, the paint refusing to dry as much as he blew at it.

Even as he closed his eyes to sleep at night, the last thing he always saw was the blatant betrayal that swam in the depths of her hazel eyes. Harry took a sharp intake of breath; the salve was wearing off, and the wounds were starting to open up.

“Harry?” Ginny's voice broke as tears began to cascade down her face. It was true then.

For five years he hid his true feelings behind a façade of happiness, but behind it he was crumbling, like a dilapidated building.

_“I’m sorry Hermes, I swear-"_ _“No Harry! How could you?” The sky wept, just as she did._

His eyes stung slightly, the sudden recollecting stirring dormant emotions within him.

“Yes.” His heart grew heavy with regret, the resentful part of him wishing that he had never went to that quidditch party, that he had never played spin the bottle, that he had never went into that broom closet with Ginny, that he had never _ever_ gotten her pregnant.

Now the lasting result of his infidelity was the loss of the only girl he ever truly loved, and a son, that he loved regardless of being the product of a terrible drunken mistake.


	4. Four- Scorpius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't worry, they'll be more to come from me. Your feedback will be highly appreciated ｡◕‿◕｡

In a blur the week had zoomed by, carrying Hermione to Saturday.

The hot water jetted out of the silver shower head and pelted against her skin, the warmth alleviating the pain that formerly resided in her back and neck.

The sound of the water against the tiles, like pearls falling to the ground, assisted in bringing her peace of mind. Her thirty minute showers always brought her troubled mind to a place of serenity, where positivity and self love roamed free.

She gave a distressed sigh as she turned the tap off, the icy air instantly hitting her. She left the shower quite begrudgingly, facing the full might of the cold Saturday morning.

_“Quit your job.”_

_“I’ll pay you a hundred thousand galleons!”_ All through the morning, Draco's voice danced in her head, refusing to desist as Hermione attempted to shoo the pesky thoughts away.

_I can’t just quit my job and go work for Malfoy_... Maybe if she skipped the meeting she was supposed to have with Malfoy, he would understand that she didn’t want to help him.

_But you have to help you... He saved your life!_

And then there was _that_.

During the war, Draco had saved her from meeting a grotesque demise at the hands of Fenrir Greyback, the ruthless werewolf that had bitten Remus Lupin as a child and marred Bill's face. 

Her grasp on her coffee mug tightened. She was still in his debt.

She threw a quick glance out the window, her eyes following the flock of birds that flew in the cloudless blue sky, their delighted tweets filling her ear. If only she was a bird. At least they could _fly_ away from their problems. Alas she had to stay put and deal with hers.

Once she was finished with her breakfast, Hermione snatched her trusty beaded handbag from the desk and her sun hat from the coat rack, and flooed to Diagon Alley.

Even after the war, Diagon Alley managed to maintain its lively and jovial vibe. Many of the shops that had closed down during the war, a dark period of time, had reopened their doors, hoping to restore the tranquillity that Voldemort and his minions had destroyed.

Hermione caught sight of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and made a beeline for the bustling joke shop which gained fake quite quickly and became the number one attraction for witches and wizards.

As she pushed the large door of the boisterous joke shop open, she was immediately hit with a strong spell of happiness, the emotion dispersing throughout every inch of her body. She scanned the crowd of young customers in search of the owner's familiar face, and when she caught sight of his freckled face and his iconic auburn locks, she waved him over, now baring her teeth as she grinned. The facial expression was so foreign to her that her face struggled to adjust to it.

“Blimey Hermione is that you? By Merlin it’s been so long!” George Weasley said, pulling Hermione into a warm embrace. His warm scent of polish and treacle tart caused her body to tingle in delight. “I know right! How have you been?”

“Why don’t you drop by for a visit and find out!” He said with a chuckle that quickly evaporated as Hermione's expression quickly fell. “Oh.”

Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry George. I'd like to visit but it’s just that...”

“Ginny and Harry?” As much as she didn't want to admit it, it was true that she kept a distance from the Weasley's, her second family, because seeing Ginny or Harry there would hurt her deeply, reopening the wounds that weren’t fully healed.

“George am I being petty? I mean it’s been five years and I still-"

“Hermione, look,” George interjected. “What Harry did wasn't great. You have every right to be angry and heartbroken, even after all this time. The heart heals at its own pace. All I want for you, as a big brother is to move on with your life, to find happiness, because bloody hell Hermione you deserve to be happy! I don’t want to see you all mopey because of a prat that never deserved you.”

Hermione chuckled, despite the steady stream of tears that cascaded down her face. George blanched. “Oh crap, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He pulled Hermione into another embrace, the contact causing her laughter to morph into quiet sobs that slipped past her lips. The amount of love that oozed out of George and his words was enough to move her to tears, but this time of joy!

Once she was sure she was done with the waterworks, she pulled away from the hug, a smile plastered on her damp face.

“Guess who I received a letter from?” George said suddenly.

“Who?”

“Ronniekins. He said that he's popping by for a visit.”

“Oh really? That’s fantastic!” Ron had left at the beginning of the seventh year of Hogwarts, in search of a purpose. Being a war hero, the ministry funded his travels.

When Ron had left there was a sense of desolation that hung over Harry and Hermione, weighing down on their chests and threatening to cut off air circulation. The golden trio became incomplete, like a bicycle without its wheels.

For the first year of his travels, he had kept in touch, sending Hermione gifts from all the countries he went to. Then in the second year, communication began to dwindle, until he stopped sending letters altogether. Hermione blamed her busy schedule on their lack of communication.

“So when is he coming back?” Hermione asked, already feeling excited for her best friend’s arrival.

“He should be here next Sunday. Mom is planning to throw a humongous welcome home party for him. I hope you'll grace us with your presence Hermione.”

“I can’t promise you that.” Hermione said with a sad smile. George groaned. “Come on Hermione. We really miss you.” Hermione caught the flash of anger that glimmered within his sky blue eyes.

Out of all the people that knew of Harry’s transgressions, George was the most indignant about it. He was always on her side in the matter, providing a shoulder to cry on and slowly becoming a confidante for the brunette witch. He was the life jacket that prevented her from drowning in a sea of loneliness.

“Uhh listen George, I have to go.” Hermione said, as she remembered the meeting with Draco. “Tomorrow I’m free. We can meet again, at that new coffee place that just opened.”

“The one near Gringotts?” George inquired.

“Yeah that one. It was lovely seeing you again.” She gave George one last hug, along with a peck on his cheek before walking hurriedly out of the joke shop.

George watched her retreating form, his mouth drawn into a tight lipped frown.

_Sobs racked over her hunched form, her body gyrating with every cry that escaped her lips. Despite it being the middle of spring, it was a chilly night, the dark sky devoid of any stars. Just a crescent moon sat in the sky, providing little illumination over the darkened field._ _Goosebumps sprung on his skin as another cool breeze swept over them, whipping at their hair. His jumper had been wrapped around the crying girl's shoulder in a chivalrous attempt at sparing her from a cold._ _The night was too beautiful for so much sorrow, he thought bitterly._

Someday, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she would too emerge from the ruin that was her life, and go back to being that headstrong, confident, Gryffindor he knew so well.

* * *

A thunderous crack sounded as Hermione appeared on front of the gates of Malfoy Manor. Once again she was returning to the palace of nightmares, a place she might need to start getting accustomed to.

The sun was already beginning to set, the horizon glowing with picturesque shades of peach and orange as it sank into the cluster of large trees that surrounded the gargantuan manor.

“You’re late.” A startled scream tore past her lips, as Draco's voice suddenly rang out beside her. She whipped her head in his direction, perplexed by how stealthily he managed to apparate beside her.

Tonight the Malfoy heir was adorned in a full set of wizards robes, the rich fabric billowing in the subtle evening breeze. His soft platinum blonde hair had been gelled back, glistening in the light of the emerging moon. The one thing he didn’t change was his stone cold mask, which remained transfixed on his face.

“Come.” Without warning his slim fingers wrapped around Hermione's wrist, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. He apparated them into the manor, this time to his study. He leaned against his desk, his icy gazed fixated on Hermione.

“Before we start, do enlighten me Granger. Why were you late?” He drawled menacingly.

“Uhm I assumed that you would want to see me until after dark? I mean I know you would rather shave off your head than be seen publicly with me.” Hermione deadpanned, her arms crossed over her bosom.

Draco scowled, obviously not finding her banter amusing. “Very funny. Now follow me Granger.” He said.

“Where to?” Hermione questioned sceptically.

“The whole purpose of this visit was for Scorpius to become accustomed to you. Even though you're extremely capable, I wouldn’t leave my son with a woman he disapproves of.” Draco explained. “If Scorpius is comfortable with your presence in this manor, then by tomorrow you can have your belongs moved here.”

 _“My belongings?_ What are you-" Hermione said incredulously, before Draco interjected.

“This is a live-in job Granger. If ever Scorpius is in need of something, I want you to be at his beck and call.” Draco said, his lip curling into a smirk. “I suppose that I should have told you that in the first meeting. Oh well, there’s no going back now.” The incredulous look on Hermione's face brought the Malfoy heir absolute bliss.

 _Great, just great._ Not only was she going to work for Draco fucking Malfoy, but now she was going to have to live under the same roof as him! She cursed Malfoy and his proclivity for tormenting her.

They stopped at what Hermione assumed to be the young Malfoy heir’s room. Draco brought his knuckles to the varnished surface of the dark oak door, and tapped on it in a repetitive and monotonous rhythm. “Scorp?” Draco called. He was met with silence. His face held its typical cold look, but Hermione could see that his silver eyes held a degree of panic. However, it dissipated almost immediately as Scorpius’s young voice rang out on the other side of the door. “Dad?” Draco took this as his cue to enter. He twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Scorpius Malfoy's room wasn't like the typical five year old's room. The interior design had been done solely in Slytherin colours, a typical theme for the Malfoy household. The only indication that a small child resided in this room were the toys scattered around a large mahogany toy box and the crayon drawings that beset the top of his desk.

Scorpius Malfoy sat cross legged atop the silver bedspread, a large white stuffed bear perched next to him and a book opened on his lap. “Scorpius.” Draco called, grabbing the young boy's attention. Scorpius lifted his head from the book, his big silver eyes landing on his father.

Draco's Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed, and for the first time since their encounter in that alley, his cold façade was lost, overcome by a warm, fatherly look.

“Daddy you said you'd come tuck me into bed!” Scorpius whined, clinging onto his stuffed bear. “In a minute Scorp. Right now I want you to meet somebody.” Almost automatically, Scorpius’s big curious eyes travelled to Hermione. She squirmed with discomfort as his gaze began to penetrate her.

“Scorpius this is Hermione Granger.” Draco said, gesturing at Hermione who waved awkwardly at Scorpius. “Hello Miss Granger.” He said, waving back at Hermione. Then his eyes lit up, shimmering under the light of the chandelier that hung above them. “Are you my new tutor?”

“Why yes Scorpius, I am your new tutor.” Hermione said, as she walked over to the four poster bed. The bed sunk as she took a seat on the bed beside Scorpius. “Wacha' reading Scorpius?”

“It’s a new book Daddy bought me. _It’s called The Adventures of Leila Brown and The Magic Treehouse._ I read up to the fifth page without daddy's help.” He said quite proudly.

The resemblance between Draco and Scorpius was so uncanny, Hermione could hardly believe it. It was like looking at first year Malfoy all over again.

Of course there were several minor things that set them apart, like for instance Scorpius had more of a button nose while Draco's nose was angular, and Scorpius’ ears were a bit bigger than Draco's. It seemed that while Scorpius was a carbon copy of Draco, he inherited certain qualities from his mother, whoever that was.

“Hey Scorp, is it okay if I call you that?” He nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, how about I read you the rest of the book. I reckon it will be much faster.” Hermione suggested.

“Sure!” He exclaimed exuberantly. Hermione lifted the book from his lap, and positioned herself comfortably on the bed, her back rested against the pillow and her feet on the bed. She froze as she felt something warm brush against her thigh . She threw a quick glance downwards, her heart beat quickening as she noticed that Scorpius had rested his head against her thigh, his big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

Clearing her throat, she brought her eyes back on the glossy animated pages of the book. “ _But Leila had a very big problem. Her friends, Michael and Romilda, were stuck in the tree house with no way of going down. The ladder had been removed so she couldn’t climb up! The only way to get up and save her friends was to fly using the broomstick, but Leila didn’t know how to fly! So..._ ” Hermione read on and on to Scorpius, who was rapt by every word that left her lips.

Hermione read with a degree of exuberance that made young Scorpius feel like he was alongside the characters, facing their trials and tribulations. She read and read, not even halting for a second as the wonder in his eyes drove her onward. As she caught the wonderstruck look in his eyes, she couldn’t help but be struck by a heavy feeling of nostalgia. She was witnessing the birth of a bibliophile.

“... _and so Leila, Romilda and Michael managed to escape doom and live happy ever after. In the end, all was well._ ” It wasn’t until she heard soft snores leave the young boys mouth that she stopped. Hermione beamed, her heart swelling at the sight of his angelic sleeping face. Looking at him made her ponder on how somebody as cold, cynical and indifferent as Draco could've produced something as angelic as little Scorpius. It hardly seemed possible!

“He's asleep?” Hermione directed her gaze to the door, where Draco stood leaning against the threshold. If it wasn't for the fact that he was out of his robes and barefooted, his hair lightly dishevelled, then Hermione would've thought that he had stood there the entire night. “Yeah... He just fell asleep.” Hermione said.

“Alright, come on Granger time to go.” The words immediately brought a rise out of Scorpius. All thought of sleep vanished as he shot upwards to a sitting position, and clung onto Hermione, his vice like grip squeezing the life out of her. “Please daddy, I don’t want her to go.” He begged, his voice reduced to a whimper, his bottom lip stuck out.

Draco sighed distressingly, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Relax Scorp, She'll be back tomorrow I promise. Now let her go!”

“You said that about my last tutor!” He whined. Hermione huffed, both flustered and flattered that Scorpius took a liking to Hermione so quickly. She set her hand on his head of silky silvery hair, the action pacifying him almost instantly. “I promise that I’ll be back Scorpius. Tomorrow I can bring you a book I read as a child. You’ll love it I promise!”

Reluctantly, he retracted his hand from around her, allowing her to stand up from the bed. His eyes glazed over with tears. Draco sighed, heavily distressed by his son's recalcitrant behaviour. “Now I need you to go back to sleep. Little boy's like you shouldn’t be up this late.” He reprimanded.

Scorpius sank underneath the covers, his blonde head the only thing visible to both Draco and Hermione. “Goodnight daddy... goodnight Ms Granger.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by the covers. With a snap of Draco's fingers, the lights went off, darkness taking over briefly before the soft illumination of Scorpius’ night light filled the room.

Draco closed the door, his body slumped with exhaustion.

“Well... I didn’t expect Scorpius to warm up to me that quickly...” Hermione said, her words accompanied by a chuckle.

“Oh it’s nothing special Granger. Scorpius just has an unhealthy tendency of clinging to people too quickly.” Draco said, as he began to walk towards his study. Hermione followed behind.

“He became too attached to the previous tutors I had assigned for him, and when they eventually left he was absolutely devastated.”

Then without warning, Draco halted his steps, before turning towards Hermione. “That's why,” The emotion that previously resided in his eyes quickly began to dominate his face. “I need you to be committed to helping my son. He's already enthusiastic about having you as a tutor Granger, so you can’t turn thus offer down. You are now obligated to help my son.” Silence ensued, allowing Hermione to absorb Draco's words. His steely gaze pierced through her, refusing to relent until he was sure that she was willing and devoted to tending to his son.

Draco was asking for too much. How could she make helping Scorpius her number one obligation when there were still many, many things she needed to prioritise in her life?

But refusing to help Draco in his seemingly desperate time of need would cripple her sense of righteousness. Scorpius’ teary eyed gaze flashed in her mind. And that poor boy. With his father always working to ensure they kept their lavish quality of life, and his mother who knows where, the boy obviously was in need of a companion. One house elf was barely enough to keep him company.

A huff of exhaustion left her mouth as she opened the door to her apartment. Once again her Saturday ended on quite an interesting note. Not only did she have a new and certainly interesting job, but she also had a new home (Well not home per se; just a much luxurious roof over her head).

The lights went on, illumination filling the previously darkened space. A scream tore past her lips as her eyes caught the figure that sat comfortably on her sofa, as if they were not fazed by the owner of the house they intruded catching them.

It took her a moment of getting over her shock to realise that it wasn’t just any intruder sitting on her sofa.

His auburn locks that once barely touched his neck now cascaded over his shoulder, and the pallid, freckled skin of his arms was inked for wrist to shoulder. Just as always, his sky blue eyes twinkle with mischief, reminiscent of the days she had spent in Hogwarts with her two troublesome best friend.

An array of emotions all ranging from anger, to sadness to happiness filled her to the brim, the intensity of the emotions triggering a steady flowing stream of tears.

Five years is a long time not to see your best friend, but now that he was sitting before her eyes, five years worth of longing, hate, love and happiness were beginning to reveal themselves in the form of the tears she was shedding. He rose from his seat and approached her, his lanky arms wrapping around her in an embrace.

“Blimey Hermione, it was never my intention to make you cry!” He chuckled, rubbing soothing circles on her back, the action only amplifying her tears.

She attempted to speak, but only sobs spilled out of her mouth, leaving no room for a single word.

After five years of sadness and loneliness, her heart finally felt whole again.

Ron was here, and for the moment being all was well.


	5. Five- Personal Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update guys, I was Sooo wrapped up in so many things but now I'm back *happy dance* anyway enjoy the chapter!

Sobs racked over her petite form as Ron held her in a tight embrace, the powerful hug filling the empty gap of missed embraces.

Hermione refused to break the embrace, for she felt that if she let go he would evaporate into thin air before her eyes, never to return. Even if the possibility of that happening was nil, she wasn’t going to take that chance.

_“Oh Ron.”_ She sobbed, a teary smile appearing on her face. “I missed you s-so much! I-I just...” Her words broke off, interrupted by a sob that pushed past her lips.

Ron chuckled despite him quite apparently losing the battle against his tears as they seeped through the cracks of his crumbling bravado. “Bloody hell I missed you so much!”

It was baffling how much Ron had changed. His once unruly red curls looked to be about as long as her own feral brown mane, which fell just above her waist. Auburn stubble dotted his chiselled chin and his arms were canvases displaying bright, vibrant and colourful pictures. She was certain that Molly wouldn’t approve of his new look.

As she pulled away Hermione noticed the steady stream of tears that slid down his freckled face, congregating underneath his chin into one fat teardrop.

So the night Hermione had meant to spend on herself ended up being a night filled with tears and reminiscing, and at that particular moment, a strange thought crossed her mind.

_“I guess sometimes it is nice to cry.”_

* * *

Hermione heaved a sigh as her gaze swept across the vacant living room. Beams of sunlight seeped through the blinds and streaked over the cardboard boxes that sat on the wooden floor, specks of dust dancing in the air.

No one knew that Hermione was relocating and Hermione felt that it was better that way. Maybe making the move to the Malfoy home was the best for her. It could prove to be the perfect getaway from her troubles, that is if Malfoy doesn’t end up become another thorn in her side.

She wrapped her hand around the cool steel handle of her suitcase, and disappeared with the loud crack of apparition.

She reappeared in front of the familiar gates of the Malfoy family home, her stomach in knots. Almost immediately, she spotted the house elf, Atty, standing in front of the gates with her long, nimble fingers clasped together as she patiently waited for the anticipated arrival of Hermione.

“Miss Granger!” A squeaky voice exclaimed, as she caught sight of the frizzy haired witch. Today she wore a pink dress paired with a large pink sunhat, her bat like ears peeking out through two makeshift earholes. Although Hermione thought she looked stunning in her ensemble, she couldn’t help but free a bit of her mirth.

“Miss Granger, Master Malfoy is sending me here to show yous to your room in the manor.” She squeaked, before extending her long hand to Hermione. “Take Atty hand, Atty will take yous there!”

Hermione took the house elf’s hand, and was immediately sucked into the powerful vortex of elf apparition.

“Here we is!” Hermione leaned against the threshold as she tried to shake of the spell of nausea that engulfed her, much to the obliviousness of the house elf. Her gaze flickered over the room, her breath hitched in awe.

Just like Scorpius’ room, her bedroom had been done in a house theme, in this case, Gryffindor. The bed, which trumped her old bed tenfold, had been adorned in a silky gold bedspread, with a thick burgundy blanket covering the bottom half of the bed. Two large, maroon pillows were propped against the headboard followed by two gold euro pillows centred in front of them. A maroon accent pillow with a gold lace bow on the face was placed on the forefront of the arrangement. The mahogany headboard had been etched with intricately detailed vines and flowers.

The burgundy curtains, which looked to be of a see through satin material, were lined with golden seams, and from across the bed was a large vanity unit built with an oval mirror and a stool. Next to it was a door that Hermione assumed belonged to the walk in closet, but upon inspection actually led to the ensuite bathroom.

The bathroom, although not Gryffindor themed _(as humiliating as it was for her to admit, she had the same expectation for the bathroom)_ looked just as opulent as her new bedroom.

A large, claw foot tub big enough to accommodate two people sat at the middle of the room, it’s surfaces gleaming invitingly. On the far corner was a large shower with a stained glass door. Hermione walked over to the shower, her hands running over the magnificent designs etched into the glass door. The colour scheme of the bathroom was white and peach, with the tub being peach and the tiling for the floor and shower being a checkered peach and white. The mirror, which was rectangular shaped unlike the one in her bedroom, had been sandwiched between two bathroom cabinets and underneath it was the bathroom sink.

Hermione was so enthralled by her new living space that she didn’t notice Atty standing behind her. “Do you like it Miss Granger! Atty thinks this place is looking nice but if you don’t like it Atty can prepare a new room for yous in no t-" “Atty!” Hermione cut the elf from her rambling. She giggled. For such a small creature she sure was verbose.

“Don’t worry yourself. I love it. It’s perfect!” At Hermione’s acclamation Atty blushed.

“Figured that you'd like it Granger.” Startled by the voice that resonated from behind them, both Atty and Hermione jumped. They turned to the source of the voice, where Draco Malfoy stood, hands crossed over his chest and a lazy smirk plastered on his face. “Hello Malfoy. Lovely to see you.” Hermione said sarcastically.

“Admiring your living quarters I see?” He asked.

“Yes Malfoy. It is quite lovely. I just figured that you’d put me in one of the dungeon considering how you feel about people of my status.”

“I thought I made it clear that blood purity doesn’t matter to me any more.” He said with a frown, annoyance flashing in his eyes for a brief moment. He sighed, shaking his head as a small smile of resignation crossed his face. “It doesn’t matter. Even if I change my views you still won't change your view towards me. Anyway, at the end of the day it isn't about me and you becoming friends. It’s about my son becoming the best like his father.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yeah whatever. Can we go over what I’m supposed to be tutoring Scorpius in?”

“Right, follow me.”

The walk to Draco's office was as tense as ever, as their previous conversation, if you could call it that, hung over them.

_“Anyway, at the end of the day it isn't about me and you becoming friends.”_ It was strange that she was genuinely hurt by that comment. There was a chance that she could be tutoring Scorpius full time, albeit being a sliver of a chance, and if that was the case then they could at least be a little amicable towards each other.

Once they were inside his study, he took a thin booklet from atop the table and handed it to Hermione. “Everything you need to know is in here.” He said curtly. His cold façade was pitched up once again. “You start tomorrow and dinner is at six. In this house we value punctuality so I will not have you coming late. The lady-" He stopped himself with an intake of breath. Hermione raised her eyebrow at his faux par. _Was he about to say ‘Lady of the House’?_

_**No you're being preposterous. Why would he consider you the Lady of the House?** _

Shaking it off, Hermione turned and left the room just as Draco had taken a seat behind his desk. As soon as he was sure that Hermione had left the vicinity of his office, Draco allowed himself to unwind. He placed his face in his hands, a huff leaving his lips. _“That was close...”_

Once inside her new bedroom, Hermione threw herself on the bed, sighing in ecstasy at how soft the bedding was. She kicked off her shoes and snuggled into the pillows, a wistful sigh plastered across her face. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would be have such a luxurious space to herself, what with her appalling salary from the ministry.

Speaking of which... she still needed to write her letter of resignation. She huffed.

Could she just not write it and not turn up for work? She shook her head. No... people would think that she went missing. The last thing she needed was another scandal. She could imagine the headlines already: _Golden Girl Hermione Granger Goes AWOL._

It was decided... She would write it _after_ a nice, warm shower.


End file.
